Chapter 99: The Peony Pavilion

At dawn, from the rear courtyard of the Lin estate, the sound of opera singing drifted through the air.

"The painted gallery's gold dust lies half-scattered, the pondside pavilions are covered in a stretch of green moss.

Even in the Peony Pavilion, amid the cuckoo's cries, there is but a congealed trace of blood."

"Stop, all of you stop! Today is the old master's birthday—why perform something so inauspicious?" Lin Zhili, the second son of the estate's senior branch, waved his hand and berated the troupe.

The troupe master apologized profusely and dismissed his performers.

"Second Brother, this *Peony Pavilion* is performed every day in the prefectural city. As it happened, the troupe came to our estate today, and several of the younger brothers wanted to hear it, so I asked them to perform a passage."

Lin Zhili looked toward the speaker and saw it was a junior from the third branch, called Lin Zhiyin—or was it Lin Zhibie? He couldn't quite remember. Behind him stood younger brothers from the other branches.

In any case, once the old master died, every branch outside the senior one would have to move out sooner or later, only visiting during festivals. Whether he recognized them or not hardly mattered.

So Lin Zhili put on the airs of the senior branch and lectured: "You are all still young. Your studies must come first. In the future, pass the examinations and enter officialdom to bring glory to the Lin family name—stop wasting your minds on these lewd songs and wanton tunes!"

Lin Zhili's tone was severe, and the younger brothers dared not talk back. They could only cup their fists and acknowledge the rebuke.

After dismissing the younger brothers, Lin Zhili strode to the main gate, ordered the servants to open it, and stood outside to receive guests.

A servant came forward to report: "Second Young Master, this autumn has been cold and the harvest is poor. More than a dozen tenant households cannot pay their rent."

Lin Zhili glanced sideways and said in a cold voice: "If they can't pay the rent, then beat them. Do I need to teach you this rule?"

The servant said in a low voice: "These are all tenants who came last year. They already bear grudges against our family. If someone dies from the beating, they might start trouble."

Lin Zhili felt a surge of annoyance. When they had leased the land, they had agreed on a fixed rent of one tael per mu—yet when it came time to pay, every single one of them made endless excuses. Truly cunning, treacherous peasants!

"Go to the accounts office and draw some silver. Hire the county yamen to send some runners along to collect the rent. Anyone who refuses to pay, have the runners throw them directly into jail."

"Second Young Master, hiring the yamen runners might cost more than waiving those wretches' rent."

Lin Zhili's face turned icy: "Do you think I don't know that? But the rules cannot be broken. If we save money this year, they'll default again next year. We must teach these wretches a lesson they won't forget in one go! Go!"

Not long after, another man dressed as a young gentleman walked out from inside the gate.

Lin Zhili cupped his fists and greeted: "Elder Brother."

The newcomer was none other than the eldest grandson of the Lin estate's senior branch, the future heir of the Huangyan Lin clan—Lin Zhishu.

"Mm." Lin Zhishu only nodded plainly.

It was still early; no guests had arrived, and the elders had not yet come out. Only a few servants hanging lanterns stood before the gate, so there was no need for elaborate formalities.

Seeing Lin Zhishu also take his place before the gate, Lin Zhili tactfully stepped half a pace back so as not to stand level with him. In his lowered gaze was a heart full of suppressed venom.

Before long, accompanied by several servants, the head of the Lin estate's senior branch, Lin Jiren, walked out through the gate.

Lin Zhishu and Lin Zhili both cupped their fists and bowed to their father.

Though it was only the single word "Father," the two spoke it one after the other, not in unison.

Lin Jiren walked over to his eldest son, a fond father's smile on his face: "I received Judge Huang's reply yesterday. My son's essays have improved greatly again. At this rate, you will surely pass the autumn examination next year in one attempt and bring glory to our Lin family name."

"Father flatters me. Your son will work hard and not disappoint your teachings." Lin Zhishu returned the courtesy with calm detachment, bearing the transcendent air of a scholar unmoved by external gain or loss.

His second son, Lin Zhili, stood nearby listening with a blank expression, sneering inwardly: "A sour xiucai who has failed the examinations for over ten years and still can't pass the juren—and he has the nerve to talk about improving essays. What a joke.

Does he really think he earned that xiucai title himself? It was bought with silver.

If I hadn't managed the household affairs for him—without the yearly gifts of antiques, travel expenses, writing fees, and printing costs—that dogshit essay of Lin Zhishu's would make Judge Huang's eyes ache just to look at!"

Having said his piece, Lin Jiren stood between his two sons, waiting for guests to arrive.

It was still early; the road was empty.

So Lin Jiren glanced sideways, turned his body, and said to his second son Lin Zhili: "Has Xie Er's ship still not returned?"

Lin Zhili bowed and replied: "Father, the winds and waves at sea are unpredictable. Perhaps there has been some delay."

Lin Jiren frowned and scolded: "First the ship at Yuegang was delayed, now Xie Er's ship is delayed. If this keeps up, what will this family have to eat and spend? If you don't know how to manage the household, then step aside and let someone more capable take over!"

Lin Zhili replied cautiously: "Forgive Father for worrying—this is your son's fault. Once the birthday banquet is over, I will personally go and expedite the matter."

At that moment, a carriage appeared on the road in the distance. The three men, father and sons, fell silent, straightened their clothes, and composed themselves to wait.

The carriage drew near and stopped. The servant driving it climbed down, laid out the mounting stool, then reached into the carriage and helped out an old man with hair and beard both white.

The old man, white-haired and white-bearded, leaning on a walking stick, descended from the carriage with trembling steps.

Lin Jiren hurried forward to support him, a warm smile spreading across his face as he called out: "Third Uncle."

"Third Grandfather."

"Third Grandfather."

Zhishu and Zhili called out one after the other.

The old man was advanced in years. Smiling, he nodded to his nephew and grandnephews without saying much, then walked straight up to Lin Zhishu and asked: "Good child, which book are you reading now?"

"I have recently been reviewing the *Mencius*." Lin Zhishu answered calmly.

"Mm! Reading the *Mencius* to nurture the spirit of righteousness—that shows promise!" The old man praised loudly, then said to those around him, "Our Lin clan has passed down farming and scholarship for over four hundred years since the Southern Song without interruption. In the past decade or so, our literary fortunes have waned, but thanks to—"

Seeing that the old man was about to ramble on endlessly, Lin Jiren hastily interjected: "Third Uncle, let your nephew help you inside first. We'll sit down, drink tea, and talk slowly."

After the old man went inside, other guests gradually began to appear on the road, most of them fellow members of the Lin clan.

Though all were richly dressed, not a single one wore the square cap and blue gown of a scholar-official.

The remaining guests were mostly wealthy merchants and local gentry from the surrounding area. Not a single official guest came.

On the surface, the national mourning had ended only a little over ten days ago, so banquets and festivities could not be too ostentatious.

But Jiangnan had been changing its customs for over a hundred years—officials and commoners alike indulged in pleasure. It was already no small feat to observe the mourning for the full twenty-seven days, let alone to refrain from feasting and merrymaking after the mourning period ended.

Lin Zhili understood well in his heart: his Lin family had produced no one who passed the examinations in over a decade, and the powerful officials and nobles who once sat as honored guests in their hall had gradually begun to distance themselves.

In the Great Ming, all that talk of noble houses was empty nonsense.

Only examination titles and silver were real!

Now his useless elder brother had no hope of passing the examinations. Fortunately, he himself had handled maritime trade and earned some silver over the past few years.

To display the family's wealth, Lin Zhili had lavished a great amount of silver on this birthday banquet, expending tremendous effort.

He personally directed and arranged every detail, personally selecting every opera and every dish.

Just the colored lanterns for lighting alone numbered two hundred, and twenty bolts of various silks were bought for decoration, while firecrackers filled an entire storehouse—enough to crackle through the whole night, certain to leave a deep impression on every guest.

At the same time, he wanted the clan elders and guests to understand that the eldest branch of the Lin household did not have only Lin Zhishu as a son.

He, Lin Zhili, could equally shoulder the entire clan!

Soon the morning passed, and in the forenoon the younger generation came forward one by one to bow and offer birthday greetings to the Lin household's celebrant.

At noon came the birthday feast—all manner of mountain delicacies and sea treasures were brought out in an endless stream, leaving the feasters' eyes darting about, unable to take it all in.

In the courtyard, all kinds of flowers were also arranged, most of them spring and summer blooms, bought fresh from the underground kilns and fire pits; they would wilt after only two or three days on display.

A large incense burner was set in the middle of the courtyard, letting precious incense smoke drift freely into the air.

The attending guests had never seen such extravagant display; as they offered congratulations to the hosts, their faces were flushed with excitement and their mouths poured out endless flattery.

This kept the old master of the Lin family beaming with smiles, and he repeatedly praised the eldest branch for hosting such a magnificent birthday feast.

Fifty years ago, such ostentation—flowers on brocade, oil poured on blazing fire—would have drawn disapproval not only from scholars and literati but scorn from the neighbors as well.

But times had changed; now, faced with such lavish extravagance, all that remained on people's faces was envy.

After the birthday feast, the guests moved to the opera stage in the western courtyard, where the troupe mounted the stage to perform a private celebration play.

Servants of the household frequently brought tea and refreshments to every table, attending to all with thorough care, yet without drawing undue attention or causing annoyance.

The true depth of a great house could be glimpsed from how it trained its servants.

Today, Lin Zhili had selected three plays in total: *Full Couch of Tablets*, *A Hundredfold Fortune*, and *The Golden Seal*.

All were birthday plays of the most auspicious sort, covering fortune, rank, longevity, and joy in full measure.

Only, these were all old plays, performed so many times that the guests could hardly help but grow weary of hearing them.

When the three plays were finished, the time had just reached early evening.

The sky had darkened, and a gust of north wind blew past, bringing a hint of chill.

Lin Zhili directed the servants to light braziers, hang up curtains, and fetch cloaks and woolen blankets to cover the guests.

For a moment, the guests again heaped praise upon the Lin household's arrangements.

Lin Jiren's face flushed with the compliments, and he looked at his second son with approval.

The eldest son, Lin Zhishu, whose limelight had been stolen all day, gave a cold snort—unable to keep up the pretense any longer—rose to his feet, and headed toward the rear courtyard.

Fortunately it was already late in the day, and not many had noticed him leaving the table.

Seeing this, Lin Zhili felt even more pleased with himself; he fetched the playbook from the troupe and attended to the old master Lin as he selected plays.

The old master Lin was advanced in years and watched opera only for the liveliness of it, so he asked those around him what they would like to select.

The young grandsons gathered around the old master Lin chattered all at once, saying they wanted to hear *The Peony Pavilion*.

The surrounding guests also nodded one after another.

The play *The Peony Pavilion*, since its debut in the twenty-sixth year of Wanli, had taken the whole of Jiangnan and the north by storm the moment it first graced the stage, and its popularity had never waned.

Men and women, old and young, all loved watching it; even when troupes performed it again and again, it still often drew crowds that emptied the streets.

The old master Lin followed the general wish and selected *The Peony Pavilion*, casually choosing the three scenes "The Classroom," "The Garden Stroll," and "The Interrupted Dream," and ordered the troupe to prepare.

Hearing which three scenes these were, Lin Jiren, who had been chatting and laughing with the guests, felt the smile on his face gradually stiffen.

As if possessed, he looked toward the corner of the courtyard, where pots of peonies stood against the wall, a blaze of blossoms in full, riotous bloom—yet, away from the underground kilns and fire pits, the tips of the flowers were already faintly scorched.

A cold autumn wind blew past, and a single deep-hued peony dropped from its branch, falling to the ground, petals scattering in all directions, broken and torn apart.

(End of chapter)

Yahei

Yuan

Pen